


The Neovian Pharmacy Oddities

by Jammy



Category: Neopets
Genre: ?? - Freeform, F/M, I even put like 5 fucking OCs from a small ancient fandom into this bullshit, M/M, Medical, Miniseries, Romance, Slice of Life, Victorian, a bunch of guilty pleasure bs, add more tags and characters later, guilty pleasure, it's so hard to turn nonNeopet OCs into neopets I'll tell you that, just saying, oh by the way in a scene or two this shit gets, pharmacy, polyamorous, that's all that this is, victorianesque?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 10:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11757945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jammy/pseuds/Jammy
Summary: A new pharmacy has just opened up in Neovia!With a small but very intelligent team they will come across obstacles and live day to day inside the establishment, creating all sorts of cures and potions for the customers who are eager to get relief for any and all ailments. They will aim to make medicines made of organic and carefully selected ingredients, something their competition doesn't dare to try. Besides..."All medicines shouldn't be made of poisons."Shimon Stoneark is made by werelupewoods!Co-creator is t3f3r!Chapter 2- "Pigments 'a Plenty"





	The Neovian Pharmacy Oddities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [werelupewoods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/werelupewoods/gifts), [t3f3r](https://archiveofourown.org/users/t3f3r/gifts).



> //waves hand around in air// 
> 
> First it was the knights!AU and then we got this bullshit, alright....I'm down.  
> This was also Tea's fault too, because we were talking and rping about this a lil while ago and honestly I love it to death. We brought in some of our oldest OC's [mine being Nostradamus, though his name had to be changed. And Tea's Emily and Joan] and expect some other characters to appear soon. 
> 
> This is chapter '2' but that's because chapter 1 was in a comic format. Being that it's not coming out as nice as I hoped it to be well, I'll get to typing that in a moment....also sorry for the abrupt ending, I had no idea how to finish this off.  
> [p.s- Im so sorry if Shimon is ooc, he belongs to Em]  
>  
> 
> Anyways, here's wonderwall.

If it wasn’t for his pride getting the better of him, Oliver would’ve really considered asking Joan for help.

 

Twice already, his teacher Doctor Nostradamus Cassio had asked Oliver to do some color coordinating task and, well, failed to remember that his young apprentice is unable to see some of the colors that he’s asked of him to recreate. The first time was with the show globes they can display in the shop windows, he succeeded in creating a blood red globe and a disgustingly yellow globe to display at the front desk, but when it came to trying his hand at blue or green…well, let’s just say that it was very reassuring that the lady of the establishment knew a good amount of chemistry too.

 

This time however, it was a surprise for Nostradamus’ wife Emily so he couldn’t go to her for aid. Oliver was tasked with making an assortment of colors using safe and organic ingredients that a friend of the doctor’ssent from the countryside outside of Neovia. Being that Emily has her own art shop just besides the pharmacy (the shops are practically conjoined, honestly), it was a present that the mistress can use in her upcoming projects, maybe that of being safe enough to paint children’s toys and sell it to mothers in the town. The problem? Well, more than half of the colors were to be pastel.

 

It’s bad enough he can’t see green and blue, pastel though? Now you’re asking too much.

 

The herbs Nostradamus recieved from his friend in the country aren’t rare but they are very expensive, even for Neovian standards. Failure was scarcely limited, if failure was even an option, but up at this point for Oliver, that is never so. Neither was asking the other resident doctor—and retired military medic—Joan Dawson, for help because for him that meant defeat. Oliver accepted the task accordingly, saying ‘yes sir’ and setting up the containers for the paints and the herbs all neatly before him and he even went as far as grabbing some tools so he can put alongside his small work space at the window inside the pharmacy. The young Christmas Gelert looks down at the table in front of him and draws in a long tired breath of air, desperately trying to think of a fool-proof plan.

 

“Do you need help, Ollie?” Joan’s obnoxious cooing from the other side of the store was enough to make Oliver’s shoulders shiver and make him huff out of frustration. As if he didn’t have anything else to worry about...don’t get him wrong, Joan was a great coworker and a nice friend but, well, they like to tease a little too much.

 

“I didn’t even _start_ yet, Joan.”

 

“I know.” the young doctor is leaning against the broom that Nostradamus handed to them just as he is leaving into the shop’s laboratory. A smile that is formed with their perfectly pursed lips just adds salt into the wounds that hid in Oliver’s pride, they know about his colorblindness of course. They pretty much poke fun at him about it whenever everyone else seemingly forgets the matter. And today was no different.

 

“I think I can figure it out on my own, Joan.” the assistant doesn’t sound so sure of himself as he uses the magic in his hand to push his chair in so he can sit comfortably at the desk, he turns around to look down at the herbs and mixtures then hums in concern. _Meepit’s tail_ , _Faelie’s wing_ , _Dragon’s breath_? _Sheesh_ , if Nostradamus is so keen on getting the best ingredients for Emily and her paints he hates to see what happens when their child arrives in December…

 

He ignores the small fit of laughter and the shameful shake of the doctor’s head as he waves his hand in the air again, this time to have a few books slowly drift down from the higher shelf besides him and prop themselves up against the window’s glass. He’ll look at the herb’s properties, they should tell him what color they are—he’ll take two or more herbs of the same color and add them together, they should make a richer color of what they’re made of—and then just add some _Petpet Gloves_ to them to lighten the shade and, viola! They should be a pastel colored powder, he can then add some other plasticizer, honey and some starch after he lets the herbs steep and such so it can give the paint texture and the colors to settle and become long lasting and vibrant. Oliver first gets the list of herbs in front of them and organize them by the colors they were described in the book, which was a task in itself because he could’ve sworn that some of them weren’t really colors that were described but, you know what? The book is older than himself so he’ll just follow what he’s reading and pray for the best.

 

While that was happening Joan looks up just in time to see the door to the pharmacy open, a young shady looking Gelert dressed in blacks and greys had entered the establishment.He was a rather intimidating looking man,with pale features, thick wavy brown hair and a equally pale streak of hair on one side. He also wore a hat that also helped hide his features as well but the most unnerving trait he carried had to be the almost maniacal grin that rested upon his freckled muzzle. Though Joan had no reason to worry. He gave no second thought into greeting the regular with a playful smile and a good afternoon, he knew it was Shimon, the young man that lives next door with the small house and the fairly large lot….er, garden. It was a garden, so he was told by Oliver. The reason why Joan was so smug was because there were only two reasons the young gentleman would come into the shop—it had been the very same reason for the past couple months while the pharmacy has been open, after all—to come see the odd medical tools and bizarre cures the shop carried, and, to see young Oliver Pauper.

 

Shimon smiles that ominous grin on his face as usual and greets Joan with an elaborately flamboyant wave of his hand with an equally obnoxious looking bow—the same greeting he always gave that made the young medic laugh—then pretended to look around and adore the shop’s interior before setting his eyes on Oliver. Joan returns to his sweeping but also peeks at the corner of their eye to watch as Shimon makes his way over and lean over Oliver’s shoulder. The young Christmas Gelert still fails to realize that his usual visitor is standing right behind him until he grabs one of the many plants laid before him and is about to use the knife in his other hand to chop one of the buds off.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

 

“Spirit’s fire!” Oliver almost flew out of his seat if it wasn’t for the desk in front of him, in the same second his shock turns to embarrassment then finally to annoyance as Shimon takes a comfortable step backwards and laughs into his palm, trying to be courteous and stifle his laughter...or…pretending to do so. He can’t really stay mad at Shimon, shockingly, maybe it’s because he feels that this man was one of the very few friends he’s made ever since moving into Neovia with his mother just a few short months ago. Or, perhaps it’s the mere fact that Shimon comes in every single day just to talk to Oliver as he works, to keep him company when he’s alone outside picking from their garden or staying at the shop at unholy hours of the night to do inventory and fill requests for Nostradamus’ patients. Instead of remaining angry Oliver looks back down at the herb in his hand and then turns his attention back to the pale Gelert before him. “I shouldn’t—cut it?”

 

“You shouldn’t cut that bulb off, no.” Shimon states almost professionally as he grabs the herb from Oliver’s hand, he carefully examines the plant in between light touches and uses his forefinger to carefully turn it in his palm, he observes a little more and hisses between clenched teeth. “ _O net, ty uzhe isportil eto..._ ”

 

“What? How could it be spoiled? I didn’t do anything to it--” Oliver beings to say as his muzzle twists into a pout, he’s silenced when Shimon shakes his head more and he points to the light marks on the plant’s stem.

 

“No, no, no dear. Look, you bruised it. The Faelie’s wings are delicate, you must handle them carefully or else they’ll bruise like this and the seeds will be a bitch to get out.” Right, just like vanilla bean the seeds in the Faelie’s wings are inside it’s stem, cutting it and scraping the inside with the side of the blade is the only option but…that doesn’t mean he needs it for paint does he? From what he’s concerned all of the color come from the petals of the flower. Again, Oliver can’t help but be muttering his thoughts aloud, Shimon glances over at the abundance of herbs and nods his head ever so slowly, “Colors? Ahh, I see that you’re going to be making pigments, no?”

 

“Sort of,” Oliver admits finally, with a small gesture to the mess on the table. “My teacher wants me to make pastel paint for his mistress.”

 

“Aren’t you a doctor?” Shimon teases letting his knuckle playfully pinch Oliver’s cheek, “Shouldn’t you know how to make silly leaves into colors?” Oliver gets silent, and for once, Shimon’s smile ends up fading just the slightest as well. The young assistant turns himself back around, away from Shimon’s gaze and to the herbs in front of him, the pride in his shoulders are still there but the sheer annoyance of the assignment can’t help but fill him up in anger. Of course he should know how to do this, his mother used to make homemade paint with him when he was four years old for Fyora’s sake. This should be the easiest assignment in the world for any doctor’s apprentices. Oliver rests his elbows on the table, his hands grabbing fists full of his own hair as he stares and starts to hate every single plant his eyes come across.

 

“I _**should**_ , but I _**can’t**_. Someone tells me to make a fucking color for them and when I do I just get this—this fucking _look_ from them as if they’re thinking I’m stupid. Or like I’m messing up colors and shit on purpose.” Oliver sits up in his seat and waves a hand in the air as he pulls a thick accent, “‘ _I need them all pastel, Oliver’, some baby blues, sea foam greens, daffodil yellows. The whole lot!’_ Yeah the whole lot, the whole fucking lot sounds all damn made up if you ask me.” The young Gelert sighs in aggravation, sinking into his seat and laughing a little forcfully. “So, no. No I can’t do this. And I’m not a doctor either, just an assistant.”

 

“Well.” Shimon comments finally, reaching over to the desk to grab another flower and rest it in his palm with the Faelie’s Wing, of course it wasn’t his intention to get Oliver upset. Fuck he didn’t even know that the young gentleman was colorblind in the first place, not that...there was something that could make everyone say ‘hey look I’m colorblind!’….unless it was wearing very concerning fashion choices. But Oliver doesn’t, he’s well dressed, well kept, and handsome… “What colors _can_ you see, dear?”

 

“Red. Orange? Purple is debatable and I can see yellow, though when it’s shade turns lighter it’s hard for me to see it--”

 

“Good.” Before the young doctor’s apprentice could comment anything further Shimon carefully picks the herbs from the separated piles Oliver had made earlier and stacked them on one side of the counter. Again he reaches, but this time it was for a wooden crate that was leaning against the wall so that he can pull it in and sit on it, so he can claim half of the work space as his own. “You get to work on the red, oranges and just make a simple yellow pigment, I will get to work on the rest. Now,” the pale gelert lifts one herb to delicately show it to the other, “these plants are very fiddly, but! It’s not too hard to make them into pigments, I have a few stems here that would really bring the rich colors out of reds and oranges, and you have quite a few things on your side too that I’ll need. Take your time, make clean cuts and most importantly: don’t _kill_ the poor things.”

 

“If they’re already cut from their roots then they’re already dead, aren’t they?” Oliver’s only answer was a quick ‘disciplined’ swat to his hand and a stern ‘no’ and that was that. The young Christmas Gelert just smiles a little to himself, grateful that he was getting some help—without himself asking for any—and pushes his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose so he can get to work. Oliver even searches through another drawer so he can pull out another kit to let his friend besides him borrow. They were quite the sight, at least, to Joan and a few other costumers that had came. The two of them were hard at work, discussing which parts of the plants were needed to be added to what and how much. With Shimon’s normal eyesight for color and Oliver’s chemical research background the two of them were able to make sixteen small piles of flower parts. Step one was finished. The next step was to pound and grind them,

 

“With this one, this would be easy for you because we have to lightly bruise it. Just a simple slap to the petals before you put them in the motar.” Shimon says, a know it all grin found it’s way onto his face as he grabbed the petals from one pile and slap it once on one side and then turn it around to the other side to slap it again, Oliver looking on with curiosity. “Sort of like cooking with mint leaves, if you slap the petals on the Dragon’s Breath it’ll release everything inside it. Color, taste, and fragrant… _z_ _des'_.” Oliver leans over just enough so that he can smell the petals that were in Shimon’s outstretched hand, he was shocked that from having barely any fragrance before, all it took was a small slap and he can smell the strong aroma of sulfide.

 

“Wow--” Oliver almost coughs, he should’ve known better than to take a deep breath when he did. Even Shimon is chuckling a little before he too took a deep inhale to smell the petal’s harsh fragrence, “--that is _**very**_ strong.”

 

“Very, that’s where it got it’s name so you know. Back then people assumed that when you smelled something smokey it was from a dragon breathing fire, so, Dragon’s Breath…also don’t ever eat the leaves or the stem from a Dragon’s Breath, it’s a blood thinner.” Shimon states tossing the petals into the motar and then adding the teaspoon and a half of the starch and other dry minerals to it. “It works a little _too_ well if you ask me, you will keep bleeding until it’s completely out of your system and that might take almost a whole day.” he pauses once he sees Oliver peeking inside one of the herbalist’s books, trying to find information about the Meepit’s Tail. “Cut the leaves off of that one, would you dear?” he turns himself around to watch as Olive immediately does when he’s told, with a growing smile he grabs one of the leaves, “ _Za zdorov'ye._ ” with that he puts the leaf in his mouth, trying his hardest not too laugh as the apprehensive expression twists his friend’s complexion. “Go on, it’s good, that I can promise you.”

 

“See, where I’m from we learn about the chemicals that make up inside these plants.” Oliver began taking one of the leaves and carefully examining it in the light, “And we learn what effects it can have but…all this is just like cooking, in a way.” the Christmas Gelert finally drops the leaf into his mouth and slowly begins to chew it, after a moment he nods his head slowly, and then a little more confidently. “It tastes like a chocolate truffle.”

 

“The stem is very bitter though.” Shimon says as he dices the thin sticky stem on the table top, he tosses it into a second motar that Oliver brought just a few minutes earlier and waves his hand to waft the aroma, “Bitter, but it smells absolutely exquisite.” he looks over to the side to grab some honey and hand it over to his friend, “Some honey should make it turn orange, thanks to the sap on the inside.”

 

“Thank you.” Oliver grins gratefully accepting the small glass jar, “I’ve been meaning to ask, Shi, are you an artist of some kind? Or a herbalist?”

 

“Nope, just a smart ass.” Shimon practically chirps.

 

Oliver smiles. “Ah, that explains it.”

 

“Uh-huh, tell me again who was it that decided to help you make these silly little useless paints out of the goodness of their heart?”

 

“Fine, sorry, sorry.” For a moment Oliver watched as Shimon began to crush some of the flowers and herbs together with the minerals, all until it became a fine soft powder then he would toss it into a small container and wipe the inside clean with the sleeve of his shirt and then go on to the next one. Oliver smiles more and shakes his head while he turns his attention back to his mortar. _He is_ _ **so**_ _cute…_

 

Oh hey, uh, that was a thought.

 

 

That was a very _**loud**_ thought.

 

 

“What?” Shimon asks slowly, Oliver looks up casually, not really realizing yet that he had said something aloud. All that he’s known so far was that he was thinking it, ‘I didn’t say anything’ Oliver says though Shimon is starting to think that Oliver is rather playing really coy or he really doesn’t know that he just…blurted that aloud. The pale Gelert looks over for a moment to see Joan stifling some laughs behind his hand as they were trying to go around and dust the pharmacy, then he looks back at Oliver, still debating if he should really tell him or not.

 

Yes? No….but did he mean it? Well…he could ask? Nah, there’s no point to asking.

Screw it, he won’t say anything.

 

 

It’s been almost two hours since Oliver began, but close to an hour since Shimon had jumped in to help him. Right now they finally reached step three, which was to steep the rest of the remaining flowers in hot water for a few hours. Oliver will be in charge of putting the containers off on the side overnight and then in the morning they will add some grounded plaster to them….or, maybe they can add gelatin? That way the paint can remain wet...they’ll discuss it later. For now, both of them were quickly adding the leftovers into little glass jars with boiling water, as they worked however Oliver’s eye catches something on Shimon’s hand he didn’t expect to see.

 

Blood.

 

“Shi--” Oliver doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence as the other slightly taller Gelert straightens his posture and quickly fumbles with a small bandage that was tied in between his fingers. As if already knowing that he had been bleeding and was quick to diffuse the situation. Oliver realizes then that it was actually one of his fingers that was wrapped, and while Shimon was helping him, the injury that was there had probably reopened. He was wondering just how long he’s been pretending that nothing was wrong. “--you’re bleeding!”

 

“It happens.”

 

“No, let me see it.” Oliver doubts that Shimon had just cut himself while they worked, the two of them were cutting herbs left and right almost at a snail’s pace, they were extremely careful in making sure not to make ‘too many incisions’ or ‘bruise the stems’ and all that other nonsense Shimon had instructed. Though the other Gelert wasn’t too thrilled in letting Oliver see his fingers, he didn’t really _object_ either. The pharmacist’s assistant unraveled the bandages and immediately recoiled seeing that the ring finger was almost completely gone. From the marks that were there, it looked as though something bit his finger right at the knuckle, and what’s worse is that it looked like it’s a few days old and it was still bleeding. “Fyora’s might—don’t move, I must disinfect this.”

 

“I don’t have any money.” Shimon states plainly but it did nothing to Oliver’s panicking nerves,

 

“Why would I care about money at a time like this?! Your finger is--!! J-Just keep it still, keep the bandages on it so it won’t bleed out anymore.” Oliver rushes over to the other side of the shop and hurriedly digs through some shelves to grab clean bandages, scissors, gauze and bottles of disinfectant. Joan, who had just finished dusting a while ago and was sitting off enjoying a nice little break on a doctor’s chair immediately got up once they heard the commotion, quickly running to Shimon’s side they look at the transfigured finger and almost winces at the sight. That...was definitely a bite mark of some kind, what’s worse was that it looked like it was made from a creature—not a pet like themselves. Did this man have a petpet he didn’t really show off? No, that doesn’t seem like Shimon…also those are burn marks around the knuckle too.

 

“It looks like the wound was already cauterized, whoever did it though did a suckish job however.”

 

“Thank you.” Shimon smiles and his grin doesn’t falter when Joan gives him a horrified expression and asks if he was the one who did it. “Of course I did, like I said: I don’t have any money. I couldn’t afford to go see a physician and also, your shop was already closed.” he looks down at his hand to put the bandage on the nub of his ring finger to try stopping the little bit of blood that was there escaping from whatever he couldn’t burn. “Granted, I’m not a doctor and I couldn’t really see what I was doing.” he pauses. “And before you ask: no, I don’t know where my finger went.”

 

‘He’s lying’ Joan thought silently, if Oliver wasn’t so busy then maybe he can get the two of them to confront their ‘patient’ and see just what exactly happened so that they can give him his full treatment. But right now Shimon isn’t telling them the whole story and Oliver is almost panicking knowing that his friend had just lost a finger and then tried to burn the amputated finger closed…which can make him even more prone to infections.

 

“What kind of accident did you get yourself into?” Oliver asks in a desperate huff, he sits down hurriedly in front of Shimon. Carefully he moves the bandages away to get a better look at the injury and finally sees the marks that Joan has noticed and looks up to the medic, who didn’t have a comment for once. “It...doesn’t look like a cooking accident.” Of course not, it took him a minute but even with the injury burned he can see that the parts of flesh that have been spared still bared the canines of some medium sized creature…a decent sized creature with very sharp teeth. Not wanting to raise any suspicion Oliver decided to leave out the fact that he can see the teeth marks, and being that Joan knew that Oliver wasn’t really that unobservant he decided to keep quiet as well.

 

“Shall I inform Doctor Nostradamus about your new patient, Oliver?”

 

“No need Joan….hm.” Oliver looks up to the young medic. “Should I bother trying with some healing magic?”

 

“You know the rules, Oliver.” Joan grins flicking the young Gelert on the nose, receiving a glare and a threatening huff in return. “No healing magic unless the situation is dire and you get the ok from Nostradamus himself.” Yes, the rule pushed onto him—and only him—by his teacher, it was because he was so accustomed to using healing spells and magic but he didn’t have a good knowledge on what to do when it came to ‘normal’ injuries. He had to steer away from magic, and it was a great rule. Oliver’s been told on occasion from his parents that they had suffered broken bones and the like before and decided not to heal themselves, because it wasn’t life threatening and it wasn’t affecting their jobs at the moment. It was different to experience an ailment and knowing just how to come about as to fixing the problem because you had suffered through it before, than not knowing how the patient was feeling and just using a healing spell on them just for the sake of creating a ‘quick fix’ and ‘quick coin’. It was an apathetic choice.

 

“I think it might be called for however.” Oliver says finally as he slowly turns Shimon’s hands, “It’s a few days old, infection might be setting in already and honestly...I don’t think we should take the risk.”

 

“Fine, if you use healing magic though I am telling Nostradamus.” Joan says with the cross of their arms, Oliver is silent for a moment, contemplating his actions and to go about them but he is absolutely certain that with a—concerning—injury like this, it was called for. The medic nods their head and turns around to leave when they see Oliver’s hands and eyes glow a soft purple color.

 

“Are you going to get in trouble?” Shimon asks cautiously as he watches the apprentice grab his hand, Oliver laughs a little under his breath and shrugs. He has no idea, Nostradamus wasn’t a short tempered man, he was intelligent and very caring when he wanted to be and he was understanding for the most part. Oliver was sure that Nostradamus wouldn’t scold him for helping someone escape a life threatening injury just because he didn’t charge Shimon. Now if Nostradamus was scolding him because he was using magic even though he’s promised not to use it, well, that was different.

 

“I don’t think I’ll be fired for using magic.” Oliver says with another small laugh, he holds Shimon’s hand in both of his and watches as the magic did it’s work mending the burns and the reopened injury. “Especially because my mother and father are the ones paying Nostradamus to teach me, if anything, he’ll just give me a stern talking to.” Shimon squirms a little in his seat as the channeled magic sends warmth and tingling sensations to his injured finger all the way down to his elbow, groaning a little as he shuts his eyes and wishes for it to all be over. “Sorry, I’m almost done, I just have to make sure that everything is perfect...and...there.”

 

“Fucking finally.” Shimon breathes pulling his hand out so that his other hand can rub life back into his limb, he unwraps the rest of the bandage and looks it over once, twice, and then around the ring finger with a very satisfied nod. “Well, it looks much better than before.”

 

“Thank you.” Oliver beams with a smile and he gets silent, “Though I should be thinking you for helping me with all of this. Even though you had this injury….”

 

“Twas nothing, _moya krasivyy spasitel_.” the pale Gelert sighs contently as the tingling finally fades away and he is free with moving his fingers to their natural motions again. Oliver can’t help but grin a little more at the silly petname, though...he can get used to this.


End file.
